Wrecked
by QuestionMarks11
Summary: You see a bottle of something in one of her fragile hands and a cigarette in the other. You feel that shot of disappointment run through you, mixed with dismal despair because you always remember, at times like this just how far gone she really is. Liley
1. Chapter 1

You're warm.

You're comfortable.

Nothing can touch you, not here, not now.

You're safe in your dreams; you can forget for awhile and just think of happy things and happy places.

Until the Phone rings.

It's shrill and at this hour it sounds like someone is blasting the piercing screech through a Megaphone placed right next to your ear.

You don't want to open your eyes. You don't want to answer it. Please god, make it stop!

It doesn't. It never does.

You scramble clumsily looking for the racket making device. You can't find it and it's really annoying, is it just you or is the stupidly set ring tone getting tauntingly louder?

You roll out of bed, onto the ground and you reach out to your back pack….

Ahhh! Yes! Victory!

"Eh?" Your voice is groggy, thick with sleep…unused and forgotten.

"Lily?…Lily, You there?" Oliver's voice projects ever so loudly through the small little speaker and he's attempting to yell over the music that you hear blaring in the background.

"Oliver this better be good Do you know how fucking late it is?!" You're angry, but you're pretty sure why he's calling and if what you think is happening is really happening then you suppose it's a good thing that he's called you.

"Yeah, I know Lils, but …err, we're at a party and …well, it's Miley" It's always Miley.

You groan. You know what's coming but you ask anyway.

"What happened this time?" Yes…You meant to sound so harsh.

"Well…Uhhh, she had a few drinks…I told her to stop but, well she didn't and I think you better get over here cause she aint looking to hot"

He sounds distracted. He better be keeping an eye on Miley or you think you might have kill him. It's already bad enough he goes willingly with her to all these parties, leaving her with people like …Jake Ryan *Shudder*, would be murder worthy.

"Well, where are you?" You ask frustrated as you force your legs to move.

"26 Winfred St…I think its Derek's house…no, David's" Idiot music gets louder and you hear random yelling in the background. Stupid Footballers. You're already throwing on your jeans and your jacket. Now ….Where are those keys?

"Alright, I'll be there " You finally find the keys and you're tip-toeing past your mother's room as fast as you possibly can…Its not working to well in these shoes so you just do a run…walk…skip thing until you get to the top of the stairs.

"Hurry Lily….Jake's lurking around and she's really off her head" He sounds a little desperate. You hang up after that, the anger bubbling in your chest, forming a lump in your throat.

Jake …Shit.

--

You always amaze yourself with your ability to get to places so fast without damaging your mother's car…You suppose the fact you don't care about anything but getting Miley out of there helps a little. Adrenaline pumping an all.

You pull up in front of the house that your 100% certain is the right one. The impossibly loud music and yells and squeals of drunken teenagers are quite the tip off.

You get out of the car. You slam the door. You're tired, angry and worried out of your mind. …Oh and on top of everything you weren't quite as smooth as you thought with you're driving as there's a big scratch on your _mother's_ car that is going so going to get you grounded.

You storm up to Derek's ...no… David…no, whatever! Someone's house and you don't even bother to knock on the door (Who does anyway?) you just run in, looking around for that girl that one day you swear is going to be the death of you.

--

It's musty and dark, music pounding, the low base notes thumping in time with your racing heart beat. Bodies are squashed together, the smell of alcohol and murky cigarette smoke lingers in the air, on everyone's breath seeping through your nostrils, choking your throat.

Nameless faces pass by you, but you barely notice because you've spotted Miley, pressed up between two guys…not even dancing just grinding and swaying and for a second you let yourself notice how sexy she looks but you quickly remember why you're here.

You see Jake, one of the guys, try and drag her off the dance floor, to a more secluded place you assume. She smiles crookedly, not really sure quite what's going on around her.

You see a bottle of something in one of her fragile hands and a cigarette in the other and you feel that same shot of disappointment run through you, mixed with dismal despair because you always remember, at times like these just how far gone she truly is and to be honest You don't think she's ever really going to come back to you and that scares you more than any of this.

You take a step closer and she notices you, a drunken smile sloppily falling on her lips.

"Heeeeeeeeeeeey Lillllllsss" She slurs like an ...idiot. You shake your head…God, She's so lost.

"Come on, Miley...I think you've hand enough fun for tonight" You take her arm and put it around your shoulders, dragging her away as she babbles drunken slur in you ear, giggling like a little girl and it's time like these you wish she still was one.

"Hey! Where arrrrr ya goin'?!" Jake…Drunk….Shit.

"Yerrrrr, Lil….....Wheeeeeeerrrrrre are weee going…cause' I was kinnda thinking bout stayiiing" Miley is rambling, trying to stay upright. Your hand never leaves her back. There's no way you're letting her go, no for anything.

"We're leaving." You say it as firmly as you can with Miley's hot breath on your neck

"Nooooo, C'mon Lily…I think Miley wants to stay. Donnnnn't be such a spoil sport..Stay!" Jake whines like a little boy, he takes a step towards us and you pull Miley closer, ignoring the fact your stomach is doing some sort of acrobatic thing as Miley's head is nuzzling in the crook of your neck.

"Stay. Stay. Stay. Stay, Stay!" a Chant from Jake and his 'buddies" breaks out and you shake your head again because everyone here, including Miley are so drunk it's almost hilarious. Miley's head shoots up as the cheers begin

She sways, unsteadily "Stayy….stay…Chugg...chugg..no..staaaa-"Thump.

Just like that she collapses so quickly you didn't have much time to react so you only just catch her head before it hits the floor.

The chant stops as the drunken crowd looses interest. She's lying there in your arms…

The most broken thing you've ever seen.

--

You both made it to the car and you take a quick look at the clock, rubbing your tired eyes.

It's late.

Insanely late.

So late that technically it could be called early. …But really early doesn't quite have the same effect when you're yelling at her because she's gone and done it again.

It's really late and she's lying there, unconscious, draped over the backseat of your car and you've never seen anything quite so sad. She's not even awake but she's tugging so hard on your heart strings that you're scared she might rip them out and leave you with nothing and she's out cold so she won't even know that she's gone and ripped you apart.

You look away, focusing on the road again and you inwardly whine to yourself about how god damn late it is and how god dam annoyed you are that she's gone and done it again.

The street lights flicker, barely lighting the cold black road and you have to squint to even see the outline of the sign that tells you your nearly home. You turn the car slowly, it's whining too because it also hates being woken from its sleep so god damn fucking late.

Finally, you stop the car altogether and you undo your seat belt, sighing as you look back at her, her head lulling to the side ….. She breaks your heart all over again.

You get out of the car, trying to not make to much noise incase your mother wakes up. You really don't want your mother to wake up because that'll cause questions to be asked, questions you don't have the answer too and questions you haven't even dared to ask yourself.

You open the back door of your car, leaning across the seat…which thankfully, this time she has yet to throw up all over. You check her pulse. Just in case. ….You always check and you don't know why, maybe to reassure yourself she is yet to die from what she keeps on doing

You position your arms under her neck and under her knees, with one big haul you lift her up off the seat and out of the car, making sure not to hit her head on the car door like you've done so many times before…but she never wakes up anyway.

You hear her mumble something unintelligible as you open your front door with your elbow, which you've become very good at doing….you've had practice. With stealth that in the hours of the day you do not possess you creep to your room, keeping your steady hold on the lifeless girl in your arms.

You reach your room. The hallway never seemed longer, but now you're here, safe.

You set her down on your bed, smoothing out the already thrown back covers. You slowly take off her killer high heels, not bothering to change her into anything else now. Normally you would get her into something warmer and ten times more comfortable than that skimpy, flimsy excuse for a dress but tonight it's quite later and she deserves to be uncomfortable for waking you up so rudely.

You sigh again as she rolls over, taking all the covers with her. You certainly won't be on the bed tonight.

You get the bucket you keep in the cupboard for special occasions like these and you put it beside your bed, just near her head. You change, getting a spare blanket and curling up on the bean bag in the corner, grabbing a book and settling in for the night.

She rolls over to face you and she softly smiles in her sleep. Untroubled and Unaware….and just like that she puts back together the delicate shards of your heart and you find yourself smiling too because she's safe and you saved her for another night and even though your almost certain it's all going to happen again, for right now…she's alright.

But you know can't help reminding youself of what you know'llhappen next ; she'll wake up and never remember any of this.

She'll _act_ like she's got things under control.

She'll _act_ like she's okay.

When deep down, like you only see when it's so late it could be called early,

She's Wrecked.

---


	2. Chapter 2

A_/N I highly enjoyed getting all of your reviews so please, keep them coming =)_

_Originally, I wasn't going to continue this but… there was more to say I guess._

_Disclaimer: I do not own Hannah Montana, Not even a little bit. _

--

You're warm

You're comfortable

Nothing can touch you, not here, not now.

Until you hear a door slam.

The noise is close. Too close.

Unpleasant guttural whimpers and moans echo to where you are sprawled out on the decidedly uncomfortable beanbag, a thin blanket draped across your legs.

Your eyes crack open and that same retching noise is heard again, you vaguely recognise the sounds of someone stumbling around and again you hear another spluttered groan.

You know that sound. You've heard it all to many times before, that sound means one hell of a hangover, that sound means she's awake and the only concrete thought running through your still groggy mind is a pray of thanks that she made it to the bathroom this time.

The door swings open harshly just as you throw off the blanket, in it's wake you find a petite brunette with droopy eyelids and dishevelled clothes. She's wiping at her mouth with the back of her hand and with a sloppy groan she staggers forwards.

Her hair is a mess and her make up that you are pretty sure took multiple hours is ruined leaving gauntly pale skin and shredded white lips.

She makes it over to the bed as you slowly stand, You sigh as run your fingers through your hair because to be honest you have nothing left to say to her and you hope that your disappointed eyes tell her enough.

You walk to the bathroom cupboard, being careful not to look at the floor or at the toilet. You come back and She's sitting on the bed. You hand her a tablet and a cup of water from your nightstand. She takes it, gulping it down. She falls back. Letting the painkillers take effect.

After a few minutes she wearily sits back up but still manages to look marginally recovered, She stretches her legs then crosses them, tilting her head slightly as she looks at you . You still don't know what to say and she doesn't look very eager to offer anything either so you both just watch one another, trying to avoid, like you always do, the uncomfortable, painful conversation that you have never been brave enough to have.

She's looking so.. Normal. It's hard to believe the images from last night that run through your head, mixing with flashes from the many other nights where she's been so drunk she doesn't even know her own name.

As you let the memories seep back into your once clear mine…you get angry. You can't help it. You feel it all bubbling around the surface, All the questions that you want to yell and scream at her rush to your head and her quizzical expression and probing eyes only fuel your frustration and resentment at the whole stupid mess that your still not sure how you, or her got into.

The tension gets to you and the impatient voice in your brain becomes increasingly loud so you break the silence

"Miley" You say it with as much force as you can, you're still trying to keep all the rage at bay. It's pretty hard when she's smiling, mocking you almost. She knows what she does. She knows what she's doing

"Lily" the corner of her lips tugs at a teasing smirk. Her lips are taut, they aren't used to smiling and laughing and any kind of representation of happiness, she hasn't done much of it lately. Remembering this doesn't really help the situation.

"Well?.... Do you have anything to say?" You prompt not so lightly. You're not going to let this one go, not this time. You want answers. Now.

"I've got a killer head ache" she tries to joke but your expression doesn't change and so she relents.

"About what?" She tries to look naïve, she's riling you up and you know but you won't let yourself fall into her trap, your have to get this out.

"About last night. About every night when I'm woken up so late it's insane because you're to tanked to even put one foot in front of the other" You surprise yourself. You didn't quite expect to be so bold. Your words , though rushed and dripping with escaping resentment and anger seem to have an effect on her.

You watch, gauging her reaction. Her smirk falters for a second, you've never really dared to talk about it before, just letting it slide and pretending like nothing happened…but now, you're sick of her charade, You want no part of it. Because it hurts you too.

"There's nothing to say, I had a little too much to drink and I just needed a place to crash for the night" She says, trying desperately to convery calmness and reassurance. It's not working.

You just look at her, she avoids your eyes, and She knows your not buying It. She needs something to do so she starts gathering her things. Avoiding you at all costs. You take a few steps towards her, she's got her back turned but she knows you're there; her shoulders tense and all her previous movements come to a grinding holt as she waits; Terrified.

"Miley…Why do you keep doing this to yourself?" You manage a whisper, your voice breaking as you finally ask the one question that plagued your mind from the beginning.

She turns back to you, slowly. You see her start to crumble. The slight remains of anything even resembling control over the siutation gets wiped off her face and she looks away, she can't face you.

She can't face the truth.

"I …I don't have any idea what you're talking about" Her voice is brisk as she brushes you off, continuing to put on her heels and close her bag, once she's done she turns to face you. Her façade is failing her, She's trying to deny it all, not to you but to herself and it's getting harder and harder.

"Listen, Lily, thanks for letting me stay here…I'm just gonna go home but I'll.... see you round" She's looking at you and you can see her battling with her thoughts, it seems that you pushed her just that tiny little bit too far, asking her why. You see now that she doesn't have the answer herself and it scares her.

You nod. She stares at the ground for a second but then looks to the door then back at you, as if comtemplating what leaving will actually mean. She shakes her head slightly, trying to rid herself of the thoughts and questions you planted with your hoarse attempt at figuring this all out.

She takes a step towards the door but hesitates for a split second.

"Wait, Miles" You say as firmly as you can, it comes accross as more of a strangled sob, a feeble attempt to stop her from running away.

You want her to stay and talk this out. You want to help her, you want to save her, not just from alcohol and drugs and partying way too hard, but you want to save her from herself.

But she's already out the door

You sigh again, sitting back down on the bed. You have a perfect view into the en suite and you see the contents of Miley's poisoned stomach all over the floor.

"Fuck"

--

_A/N Okay, So I'm not entirely happy with this chapter. It felt a bit …Blah... but I suppose I felt it was necessary not to rush anything. Thanks for reading!  
_


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